Tuesday, 28 February 2012

unBound and Determined - Midweek Features - 01/02/2012

There is so much to be said about the depth of soul and spirit that’s infused into the writing that comes into Pink Panther Magazine. Many pieces may be filled with trials, with erroneous conclusions and experience outcomes, or with pain that cuts so deep even the reader feels the burn. Yet beneath the perceived piles of ruin, below the surface of ground zero, within the barren womb is the restless spirit who never quite gives up altogether. It’s an extraordinary phenomena—surrounding this creature called woman—that through history no matter how much opposition presses in, how much restriction encloses, or how much loss is endured, this warrior spirit finds some inner strength, courage, and drive to push to get past it all.

This topic has been dominating my meditations as I am currently analysing “The Yellow Wallpaper” and “A Rose for Emily.” I saw this quote included in our first feature poem and it got me thinking beyond the surface of such a statement. “No one can hurt you if you don’t let them.” ~Gandhi. I suppose such a statement can be true for those who are truly free. Remain trapped and subjected to abuse without a way out and I wonder how such a statement would resonate with the one who has simply been worn down over time with no way of escape. Such realities, whether historically or present-day applicable, remind me not to take my feminist freedoms for granted.

In honour of “The Yellow Wallpaper,” this week’s journey begins with a glimpse into breaking free from cages that bind.

Countess of Cages © Lilynoelle
Your heart is a metropolis
collecting souls,
that dance nimbly down its chambered halls
FREE THEM written
in blood on the walls;
you: the prison guard, breaking those lives apart as
rain pours madly down your tattered heart.
Ecstasy, indulgence, sin;
those souls you’ve trapped
buried deep within
are breaking bones as they escape
your fragile and primitive rape.
Lies, beautifully crafted: you are a Master
you tell them easily, you tell them faster
than the truth can be told, and
you almost had me, I could have sold
myself to you:
your blood, a potent witch’s brew.
Drink it up, you’ll cry,
breathe it in, you’ll sigh
and one by one
those lost souls die
… victims of a gorgeous fraud
like Mesmer: all is spellbinding
but innately, sorely flawed.
Open up your heart,
unlatch your prison bars
wipe the mud from their eyes
let them see the damned stars
that shine in ways you’d never understand:
for they were crafted by an honest Hand.
Don’t you dare ever reach out for me
all you caused was grief
and instability.
unshackle your prisoners,
you inelegant femme fatale –
release them all.

For the times a slipping soul needs new life and love breathed into her.

untitled © autumnwind
slipping yet again
slowly but surely
why must I beg
for your hand
don’t you know me
…even yet?
the edge is ever near
I smell its dark
I feel overwhelmed
I am breaking…
my wings now black
are reminder
of the disappointment
I see
in everyone’s eyes
when they look at me
what do you see
when you look at me
do you ever look…
we are all
self consumed
even I
as I write a heart
am guilty
as charged
I have no rights
I am a spec of dust
in the wind
even now
what do I want?
I don’t even know
something more
please…free me
please…heal me
my tears shed
the depths of remnants
still sealed and tucked away
in my soul
these bits of me
away..away…so far away
will someone please
breathe me in
spitting me out….

For the occasions the glass should be considered half full.

I want to believe © msdebbie
I want to believe
in the goodness of people;
hopeful optimist.
I want your beliefs
to inspire and move people;
rosy idealist.
I want self-belief
in the face of pessimists;
positive realist.

For those times the journeyer must go it alone.

The Loneliness © Art of Ella Brown
then time has past,
the green has faded and the light has cast,
its shadows on my path,
where then shall i wonder now to ponder how i see this life,
all in a gasp of air at night ,
under moon and stars and night owls cries and birds that sing and do not sleep,
through teary eyed lonely streets
and cold in my heart and cold in my feet
and all the people that i have known and all the places i have been shown,
a throne a harp a zither a loan ,
a painting made to make me whole,
a song a drum a passage of time,
a melting crystal a message in rhyme,
then where is this that i find myself ,
in misty morn in this old hell
and yet its warmer than the stealth of never being true to my inner most wealth,
so ways lead onwards and yet its so dark,
i see a glimmer i see a mark that’s been made truly and deeply hurts,
the stark,
the bare the loneliness.

There are times woman simply needs to pick up her purpose at the box office.

The Calling © RC deWinter
The universe is speaking
in a voice as aimed and deadly
as the arrows of Sebastian,
piercing through the hesitations
that cause me to falter
when the saboteur creeps in stealthily,
brandishing the sharpened steel of self-doubt.
This voice!
Insistent, firm, compelling,
that tells me things I do not want to hear
or obey
but resonates with such a truth I cannot
turn away.
“Harness yourself,” it instructs.
“Gird on the leathern straps of discipline,
lace tight the corset of purpose.
Pick up the sword of knowledge,
the shield of judgment.
You must, at last, grow up.
No more the softsilk robes,
the hoods that blind your sightline
to what surrounds.
Instead, affix that crown pretended,
the one you bought so long ago
but never fitted.”
“Listen well!” it cries.
“You can be yielding yet wise;
You can be, truly, mistress of the skies.
You can be loved and loving without compromise.”

Sometimes you must simply “cut the umbilical cord that tethers you to your past.”

A ghost’s memory © su2anne
Do you want to be
Mere shadows of
Yourselves; two
Dimensional, a grey
Blur scurrying quickly
Through the
To catch a
Glimpse of other
Possibilities you must
Cut the
Umbilical cord that
Tethers you to your
Take the
Risk that will; like the
Insistent cry of
Newling born,
Demand to be fed. That
Done there comes a
Hunger to
Extricate one’s self from this
Security blanket of
Momentum. And
Perhaps be of
Substance and
Make a difference.
I hear your
Sigh …a
Dissipation of potential.
Awaken suckered
Fools to your
Mindless reality!

’tis true: in the end, woman waits for no one.

Languishing in the House of Desire restlessd
I suppose you think I wait for you?
You suppose that this is all I do.
Whilst I spend my time just waiting to see.
Whilst you spend your time away from me.
Ah, silly boy you are mistaken
Tis not my heart that you have taken.
My heart is not for you to hold
You’ve lost that right, if truth be told.
I prefer the silence of forgotten pain
No longer will I allow hurt to gain
A hold upon my head and heart,
I will stop that aching before it starts.
I say these words to remind myself
That no man shall put me upon a shelf.
I will not allow these dreams of fire
As if languishing in this house of desire.

Sometimes the storm of emotions stirs awake the courage to live and love again.

A tidal wave of emotions © shelleybabe2
A tidal wave of emotions
rise up from below the ocean.
Erupt into a storm,
spread out into the calm.
the innocent and vulnerable;
the ones that are so gullible.
A fool in which they believed.
A fool in where they were deceived.
And once from the ocean deep
and into the light,
they gathered up strength
with all their might
from all the trail
and lived to love again.

For the times woman needs to break free of the night terrors that chain her down.

First break © bejeliMis
There’s a clear little road on this side of town
With black naked trees and untouched snow ground
With the side of the highway, as our background noise
A bruising layer backdrop yet to be turned
A Coat is not much for muscle, bone, skin
The ghost of our breathing hovers before us
We are the ever changing
Not weather
Not forests
Let time move the wind
A slow ebb of morning crawls up the horizon
Fire daubing the vanishing point
In color
In silence
Pushing the blood to our faces
We tremble from our interior coverings
Light has spread across this vista
But not through our skins

There are those moments when picking oneself back up again is the only line of defense.

I Found Myself © mermanda
When I look in the mirror
I am finally happy with what I see
the little girl
who was once lost out at sea
that little girl
evolutionized into me
morphed in and out of sanity
second hand thoughts
spinning typhoons of clarity
then bouts of doubt
I am the creator
this is my kingdom
I look out and see
the places I own
I am a force to reckon with
a beacon of light
a strong force of wind
a tornado of delight
I could mow you over
but I am better than that
I love like no other
and that is a fact
I trust in your heart
but I will never hit you back
that voodoo doll you’re holding
dressed to my T
she is consuming your thoughts
you’re hellbent on destroying me
don’t for a second think
I won’t walk away
because your thoughts can’t hurt me
I don’t care anyway
now that I pushed you aside
the mirror is free of your shadow
and your face that you hide
I can see my own eyes
they are vivid blue
now its easy to see
why your covered in envious drool
the woman I have become
I realized I don’t need anyone
to tell me I am unique
to make me feel alive
now get out of my way
so I can pick myself up
tired of waiting for you to to see
how special I am
you have taken advantage of me
over and over again
I am better
than your mediocre letter
full of deception
promises of things getting better
here is your stupid mirror back
so stand in that stagnant pool of drool
I hope you have fun
you stupid fucking fool

For the warrior maiden in us all.

Visual World © rivysue
Shall I go out or not?
Literal stains I cannot see
A permanent blot
A human shell I am
I fought
But could not be free
My Mustang
It represents me
Who I could be
If I were free
I run into another obstruction
A dark obelisk
Hiding and taunting
I feel rage that it’s there
In the first place
Want to strike out in madness
But take it with everyday grace
My nicks, cuts and bruises
Are a part of me
My disability
But they don’t define me
I am a warrior
Inside and out
I’m always failing
But never stop
My life goal
To compensate
For my chains
Give my family
Padded comfort
Maybe that will set me free
I see talent in my friends and family
See their potential
I want to challenge them
To be
More successful
But they don’t listen to me
Because I don’t have the credibility
I’m not the example
I want to be
That I’m meant to be
Back in the shell
That I’m always

Sometimes that last thing to do is to break through the dawn of revelation in order to latch onto our promise(s).

Awaken RhenaStarr
Listen closely with you heart
And you will hear
Love slipping softly in
Breaking through the surface
Of your soul
Filling it with the brilliant colors
Of love’s exuberant emotions
Disillusions dissipate
As joy is released
Spilling forth in unearthed
Dormant feelings
Too long hidden from the
World of light
Complex these emotions
Yet simple when two hearts
Casting out shadows
As a new dawn of understanding
Laces heart and soul
Passion’s fire ignites
As lips too long untested
Savor the honey silk of heated
Ripples on a stagnant pond
As touches from questing hands
Reaffirm that all is not quiet
In the stillness that had waited
Between chaos and disillusions
And hopes and dreams unfulfilled
Wasted nights and days
In virtues self imposed denial
In the vast domain of human
There is a spark ready to
Once again flame
In a fever pitch
Seductions of the flesh
Become an unbearable heat
A thirst needing to be quenched
A road needing to be once more
A journey of the body, mind and spirit
That says I am alive
I am ready to begin to live
To let life become an endless flame
That will keeps the fires of
New adventures, new passions
New creativity burning
With the awakened power of love
Of emotions denied
To a place that will challenge the day to day
To be
To feel
To cry
To laugh
To love
To live

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